


A Gentle Man

by julien (julie)



Category: due South
Genre: Episode: s02e04 Bird in the Hand, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-07-13
Updated: 1996-07-13
Packaged: 2020-10-25 05:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: Fraser and Ray have sex on a fairly regular basis, and Fraser loves that - but he has a great deal of difficulty in persuading Ray that he also wants more. He craves Ray’s gentleness.





	A Gentle Man

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** This story is set at some stage after the episode BIRD IN THE HAND. 
> 
> **First published:** 13 July 1996 in my zine Pure Maple Syrup 2

# A Gentle Man 

♦

‘Are you all right?’ Fraser asked as he followed Ray Vecchio. They were heading for Fraser’s apartment, walking up the three flights of stairs at an efficient pace in the cool hush that preceded dawn – but Fraser noted that the cop’s moves lacked his usual fluid thoughtless grace. ‘Ray?’ he prompted when there was no reply.

‘Yeah.’

‘Yes, you’re all right? Or, yes, you heard me?’

‘I’m fine,’ the man said with some impatience.

This was patently untrue, but Fraser let it go for now. Once they’d reached the apartment, Fraser filled the kettle and lit the gas under it. This was a habit he’d come to rely on over the past year – Ray coming upstairs with him during or after a case, and the two of them quietly unwinding together over a mug of coffee. Fraser was beginning to wonder how he’d ever managed to deal with the adrenalin and the aftermath on his own. Perhaps it was dangerous, or simply unrealistic, to count on another person to this extent.

Ray sat down to wait, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. He’d tilted his chair back onto two legs so he could lean his head and shoulders against the wall, and he had his eyes wearily closed even though the position appeared precarious. Fraser considered him while waiting for the water to boil. The cop wasn’t fine, having received quite a beating at the hands of a pair of felons before Fraser had located and then rescued him – Ray would at least sport some bruises, though Fraser’s best guess was that there was no damage needing anything other than time and rest.

‘Quit worrying,’ Ray said into the silence. ‘It’s superfluous. Worrying is on Ma’s duty statement, and she’s very good at her job.’

Given that the man hadn’t opened his eyes, Fraser allowed himself a quirk of a smile. Ray Vecchio seemed to know some aspects of Benton Fraser all too well. Perhaps it followed that Ray’s ignorance of other matters was by choice. ‘Then I will leave it to the experts,’ Fraser said as he brought two mugs and the coffee jug over to his friend.

‘Anyway, you’re the one who was shot in the leg not so long ago. Ma’s still worrying over you.’

‘Perhaps you would assure her the wound has healed quite satisfactorily.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Ray said with a large dose of scepticism. ‘Never mind – all my favourite Mounties limp.’

They sat there with the table and a silence between them, the air dark and cold, the coffee blessing them with fragrant steam. Fraser thought back – bypassing the previous eight hours during which he and Ray had apprehended a team of bank robbers, to consider that night he’d been shot. That injury had been the result of a long day spent in confusion and frustrated anger, protecting his father’s murderer from a corrupt ATF agent. Ray had been hurt that night as well. Fraser wished he could take better care of the man. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t arrive on the scene earlier,’ he offered now.

‘Tonight, you mean? Don’t sweat it, Fraser – it was a pleasure to keep them so thoroughly distracted for ten minutes while you caught up.’

Fraser frowned at him, trapped somewhere between discomfort with Ray’s attitude and guilt for his own tardiness.

When Ray opened his eyes enough to glimpse Fraser’s expression, he sighed in gusty exasperation. ‘Next time I’ll make sure I get to my backup gun in time, and it will be their blood on the floor instead.’

‘Am I supposed to find that reassuring?’

‘No.’ Another sigh, and Ray let his chair fall forward to sit solidly on its four legs. He gulped down his coffee, though it was still quite hot, and then stood.

Fraser had assumed Ray would choose to leave now, eager for the luxuries of his own bed, especially given his injuries and the fact that it was almost dawn. But, no – the cop walked over to Fraser’s narrow cot and began undressing, loosely arranging each expensive item of clothing on the back of a chair.

After taking a moment to drink his own coffee, Fraser followed the man’s example. He took his time, however, dealing with his uniform and hanging it up in the closet. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, even though they were tracing over the very same pattern they’d set three months ago and had scrupulously kept to ever since.

Once he was naked, Fraser walked over to the cot where Ray was now lying, and was welcomed into the man’s arms. ‘Are you sure –’ Fraser began. Ray frowned up at him, cranky at hearing unexpected words. ‘You’ve been hurt,’ Fraser continued in explanation.

‘I’m fine.’

Fraser didn’t bother hiding his disbelief, but he ran a hand down the lean body, feeling familiar soft skin and taut muscle and shapely bones. Also feeling an unusual heat generated by the man, for it seemed Ray was slightly feverish. ‘Ray, do you realise –’

‘Will you shut up, Fraser, and get on with it.’

Hiding a grimace, Fraser dropped his head to press a kiss against one coffee-coloured nipple. There had never been words between them in relation to this act before, but these ones came as no surprise – Ray was simply vocalising the impatient attitude he’d demonstrated time and again. Fraser decided to persist. ‘I am concerned for you.’

‘Oh God, then get a move on, Fraser. It’s been ages.’

‘Ah.’ Fraser thought back, and realised that it had indeed been a long time. He supposed Ray had been respecting Fraser’s leg injury, though it could also have been that the cop was growing more and more interested in the state attorney, Louise St Laurent. ‘So it has,’ Fraser murmured, his own enthusiasm belatedly catching up at the promptings of his memory.

Ray’s arms linked around Fraser’s shoulders, and the Mountie was pulled lower for a rough hungry kiss. Despite his protestations, Ray was obviously still in pain. Perhaps he sought distraction from it, or reassurance that he was still alive. In any case, his demeanour was no different to how he usually approached this act between them – it seemed that the cop wanted this very very much, and also felt a great resentment for his own need. Consequently he was all impatience and demand.

Fraser was content to meet those demands. Indeed, sex with this man was as compelling an experience as any he’d had. Ray Vecchio was a puzzle to be fascinated by, energy to be challenged by, flesh to be blessed by.

Pain, though – Ray was in pain. Just as it didn’t make a difference to his demeanour, it didn’t change the dynamics of this act a great deal, for Ray always ceded control to Fraser. However, the pain was evident in Ray simply lying there, not shifting restless and needy under Fraser’s ministrations, not provoking or prompting further attentions. Simply accepting, with feverish desperation, what Fraser gave.

Perhaps Fraser should not prolong the act. He sighed, for he would have liked to establish a better connection with Ray before taking this further. Instead today it seemed wise to seek an easy way of finishing the matter.

Shifting up onto his hands and knees, Fraser worked his way down that lean body. Ray’s arms reluctantly let him out of their embrace, a moan escaping the cop that sounded perilously close to a whimper. The flesh beneath Fraser’s lips was trembling slightly, blood heating the skin. ‘Are you all right?’ Fraser couldn’t help but murmur, his mouth against the man’s narrow waist. The Mountie did not like feeling helpless.

A groan in reply, frustrated and deep enough to convince Fraser that Ray was in control of his senses. ‘Get on with it, Benny, for God’s sake.’ And, as if speaking his friend’s name wasn’t enough, Ray also choked out, ‘Please.’

‘Yes, Ray, I will,’ Fraser announced – which was an indulgence, but he found that he liked exchanging words with Ray during this. Before the cop could tell him to shut up again, Fraser put his mouth to better use. Anticipating Ray’s wild thrust in reaction, Fraser grabbed the man’s hips and weighed down on them with the heels of his hands.

Beautiful to taste all Ray Vecchio’s hidden complexities like this, to take the very root of the man into his mouth and bless him with pleasure. Fraser worked his lips and tongue and teeth in subtle patterns, applying shifting pressures, then settled in to suckle nourishment from him.

‘No!’ Ray cried out – using a word rather than a tone in protest for the first time.

Relentless, Fraser held him still and worked a potent orgasm from his friend. Seed pulsed against his tongue, as salty and strongly-flavoured as the anchovies and olives that Ray Vecchio liked on his pasta and his pizza. Exquisite, yes, and overwhelming. Fraser rode the mindless thrusts, though he was almost thrown to the floor once, and he continued to hold the man in his mouth, offering soft tongue-caresses as Ray eased down into satisfaction.

When it became obvious his friend had had enough for now, though Ray remained hard, Fraser let him go and shifted up into a welcoming embrace. Ah, now _this_ was what Fraser usually sought from Ray before fully involving himself in the sex – _this_, this connection. Ray was looking at him directly now, those hazel eyes glowing green, his beautiful face alight with wonder and wary vulnerability. Fraser leaned over the man, matching Ray’s serious expression, not wanting to startle him into shutting Fraser out again.

Long moments, and then Ray ran the back of his fingers along the line of Fraser’s jaw, tracing the outline of his face. Oh-so-tentatively, Fraser let his mouth reveal a happy little smile – and Ray simply considered him, examining Fraser as if he’d never really looked at him before. Then Ray lifted his head and kissed Fraser’s smile, so sweet and tender, those fingers still teasing the Mountie’s chin.

_This_ was what Fraser loved – this gentleness of Ray Vecchio’s. This openness. They found such physical pleasure together, but winning through to Ray’s trust made everything else pale into insignificance.

Too soon the quiet spell was broken, though Ray gave Fraser a daring grin instead. And then the cop was shifting, arranging them both to lie facing each other, wrapping his two hands firmly around the Mountie’s hard need – lifting provocative eyebrows. And Fraser required no further invitation. He began thrusting into those tender city-hands, Ray’s fingers providing ridges of sensation, a thumb-pad brushing across the tip of him each time he pushed through, his pre-ejaculate sensitising him to the cool dawn air.

Fraser flung an arm over Ray’s waist, grabbed at the side of the bed to provide them both support – and thrust mercilessly, needing to have no regard for Ray’s injuries as there was only that one blessed contact between them. However, as Fraser felt completion loom, he added another physical connection – he leaned forward to kiss Ray’s mutable mouth. Sweet and hard, so sweet and rigorous all at once, that was what loving a man was like. Loving Ray Vecchio.

He almost told Ray as much, but Fraser kissed him wilder instead. Groaned into the man’s mouth as sensation built, too much to rationally deal with. Perhaps committed the grave error of calling Ray’s name as he finished, though the sound was strangled in his chest. Those hands freed him, though Ray let Fraser gather him up close, that lithe body bonding against his stockier frame, accommodating Fraser’s last thoughtless shudders of reaction.

The cop was still radiating warmth, but it felt less unhealthy now. The Mountie held him, demonstrating the care and the gentleness that he liked receiving from Ray. The room around them was gradually growing lighter, though the sun wouldn’t rise for almost half an hour yet. Wanting to prevent Ray suffering from the early morning chill, Fraser reached to drag a blanket over them both. And, to Fraser’s surprise, Ray slipped away into sleep.

Peace, then, in each other’s arms. Fraser smiled, pressed a kiss to the man’s temple, and followed Ray into easy dreams.

♦

‘No, I’m OK, Ma, everything’s fine.’

Fraser smiled a little, though he pretended sleep – not shifting, or opening his eyes. The air about him felt warm, the sunlight was falling from high through the eastern windows, the building bustled around them, and the street was busy below. It must be mid-morning.

‘I’m at Fraser’s, I already slept some. Guess I was tired, because I dropped Fraser off and he made me coffee, and I just fell asleep. It was something like four in the morning, mind you, so I guess it was no surprise.’

Opening one eye, Fraser located Ray sitting at the table, dressed in his shirt and trousers, settled in for a comfortable chat with Ma Vecchio via his cell phone. Fraser’s smile grew. He was glad for his friend, and a little envious – for Ray’s relationship with his mother was so whole-hearted and unquestioning and deep. It wasn’t that Fraser hadn’t loved his own family members, but each relationship seemed to bring with it a complication or a feeling of distance. Or both.

‘Yeah, we got them,’ Ray was continuing. ‘They robbed a bank, Ma, didn’t I explain yesterday when I called? OK, sorry. They robbed a bank about eight last night, and got away on a speedboat, heading down the river. Must have known Fraser can’t track a man across water. Anyway Fraser did his mud-smelling thing, and I found a receipt one of them had dropped, which had some scribbled notes on it, and we found their base. A little boathouse further up the lake shore.’ A quiet gurgle of a laugh as Ray listened to his mother’s response. ‘Oh yeah, real exciting. They should make a TV show about us.’

Fraser shifted onto his back to stretch contentedly before climbing out of bed and hauling on a pair of long-johns. He headed for the kitchen, nodding to Ray in greeting as the man glanced at him.

‘Ah, looks like Fraser’s going to make me some coffee at last,’ Ray announced to his mother with great satisfaction. ‘No, it’s OK, I already ordered breakfast. The café down the road’s going to deliver it. Yeah. No, I’m OK.’

Having set the kettle to heat over the gas, Fraser looked at his friend.

Ray had taken in a breath, kind of hesitant, but then let it out in a gusty sigh. ‘You know me too well, Ma. Yes, I was in a fight with the bad guys. They knocked me about a bit.’ A pause. ‘I’ll be fine, no real harm done. Fraser rescued me in time, and now he’s looking after me. You trust him, right?’

It seemed that Ma Vecchio did. There was a knock at the door. Ray held out a twenty dollar bill, which Fraser collected before proceeding to accept delivery of two thick cardboard cartons presumably containing breakfast.

‘Sure, Ma. I’m going in to work later to finish my report, then I’ll be home, OK? In plenty of time for dinner.’ Ray cast a hungry stare at the cartons, while Fraser went to gather up plates and cutlery, and make the coffee. ‘Gotta go, Ma, breakfast just arrived. All right. Yeah, I love you, too. See you this afternoon.’ Ray cut the call, and sat the phone beside him on the table. His hands and attention were immediately focussed on the food. A carton was opened to reveal flapjacks and hash browns, eggs and bacon. Ray’s tongue darted out for a moment to tease his own lower lip. ‘Ah, that smells good,’ the cop commented.

‘Yes, it does. How are you feeling this morning, Ray?’

‘Fine, I’m fine. You still got that maple syrup?’

Fraser frowned at him, but went to fetch the bottle from the fridge, watching in disbelief as Ray – having already transferred his food onto a plate – dribbled the syrup indiscriminately over the lot.

‘Delicious,’ Ray announced.

Sitting opposite him, Fraser tucked into his own food, not following Ray’s choice of condiment. ‘Did you sleep well?’ Fraser asked, for Ray had rarely spent the night here in Fraser’s apartment.

‘Yeah. Did we get about four hours? I’ll have a nap this afternoon, maybe, once I get home, and I’ll be good as new.’

‘I’m glad.’ Fraser ran a practised glance over the man’s face. ‘You’re going to develop quite a black eye.’

‘Then I’ll have to co‑ordinate with purple suits for a while.’ Ray at last met Fraser’s gaze. ‘Will you quit worrying? I told you it’s superfluous.’

Fraser nodded, and returned to eating the food, which he found very welcome. He only now recalled that they hadn’t found time for dinner the previous night. A comfortable silence stretched between the two friends. When they’d eaten their fill, Fraser made another pot of coffee, and they sat there together – both sitting sideways on the chairs, in order to lean back against the wall, and to prop one elbow on the table and the other on the backs of their chairs. Both lost in quiet contemplation.

It had been a while since they’d last had sex together, Fraser found himself reflecting. He wondered again at why, sensing a reluctance within himself that he couldn’t account for. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the act and the pleasure it brought – from where he sat, Fraser could see Ray’s long legs stretched out, and the thought of those legs tangling with his, or tensing to thrust up into completion – the thought made Fraser hope it might happen again this morning before Ray went off to write his report and then head home.

Home, and Ma Vecchio, and the easy way Ray talked to her. The gentleness that Ray gave freely to his family, but which Fraser had to work hard for. And something about the night Fraser had been shot in the leg while saving his father’s murderer. All clues and trails, which led he knew not where. But perhaps the way to deal with this was to run with his instincts, the way Ray did, rather than sit here in silence, wasting the man’s company in analysis. Wasting this chance in fear.

‘Ray –’

‘Yeah?’

Fraser took a breath. ‘Do you remember that night I was shot, during the business with Gerard and Lloyd Nash and Agent McFadden?’

‘Of course. You finally want to know what the P stands for?’

‘No. Do you recall that I gained the advantage in our stand-off by talking about emotions?’

‘You said there’s nothing more discomforting for a group of men.’ Thoughtfully the cop added, ‘Guess you were right.’

‘I realised that night what a high price my father paid for not being open, for not letting himself be vulnerable. For not being willing to talk or to ask for help. And I promised myself I wouldn’t follow his example in these matters.’

Fraser risked a glance at Ray – the cop was sitting there, coffee mug firmly held in both hands, staring pensively at the floor. No doubt wondering where this was heading. And, if he suspected where already, no doubt as scared as Fraser.

‘It’s taken me all this time, however,’ Fraser said, ‘to decide to talk to you.’

Ray glanced at his watch. ‘That’s nice, Fraser. Now, I really need to get this report to Welsh before the commander tears another strip off him, so –’

‘I’d like to talk with you, Ray.’

‘There’s more?’

‘I’ve barely begun.’

‘Oh.’ Ray turned to sit facing the table, facing Fraser, which would have been very direct except that he wouldn’t come anywhere close to meeting Fraser’s gaze. ‘Go on, then, spit it out.’

Difficult, very difficult. ‘Well, you’re my best friend, Ray. You have been for a long while. The best friend I’ve ever had.’

‘Sure. You’re my best friend, too, Benny.’

A silence stretched. Ray shifted, gulped at his coffee, slipped his phone into his pocket as if getting ready to leave.

Fraser cleared his throat. ‘It seems strange, Ray, that we do this – That we –’ Rather than find the words, Fraser indicated his bed with a tilt of his head.

‘Yeah, we fuck,’ Ray supplied, deliberately crude.

‘We’re best friends, and we share that pleasure, and yet we’ve never once talked of love.’

‘Why should we?’ Ray retorted.

‘Isn’t that what this is?’

‘No.’ But Ray looked miserable, to anyone who knew him – under siege and miserable. Perhaps the denial was more defensiveness than truth.

‘Maybe it would be easier if I could _show_ you how I feel.’ An idea of how to do that immediately occurred to Fraser, and he shivered under the influence. He glanced up to see Ray watching him intently but oh-so-warily.

‘What?’ the cop asked, voice full of misgivings. ‘What is going on in that strange mind of yours?’

‘At times,’ the Mountie confessed, ‘the thought of you inspires the most lurid images.’

‘Really.’

‘But I think we need to talk first, Ray. I think we need to verbalise what we feel.’

‘OK, so we’re best friends, and we fuck, and sometimes you get horny when you think of me. Is that it?’

‘No, Ray.’

The cop sat back with a sigh. ‘It doesn’t have to be anything more than that, Fraser.’

‘It doesn’t – but it is.’

Silence. Ray was apparently resigned to hearing the worst.

Fraser tried a different approach. ‘How did this start, Ray?’

‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

‘Well, I believe that when Victoria returned to me, you began thinking of me as a sexual being for the first time. You found the thought intriguing.’

A long moment before Ray said, ‘Yeah. I guess.’

‘Similarly, she awoke needs in me that had long lain dormant. Your regard and your intrigue kept those needs alive even after she’d left me.’

‘OK.’ Ray sighed again, despondent. ‘You’ve really worked this out, haven’t you?’

‘Yes. You shot me –’

‘Don’t.’ The cop cast him a dull but determined glare. ‘I don’t want to hear you pick that to pieces.’

‘Ray, there’s really no need for your continuing guilt.’

‘Leave it be, Fraser.’

‘Well, I was simply going to observe that your worry and your guilt intensified your focus on me even further.’

‘Do we really have to do this?’

‘Yes, Ray.’

‘All right.’ Fighting tones, as Ray sat up to face Fraser again. ‘Then our plane went down in the wilds of Canada, and you were crippled, and you had to depend on me. You never had to depend on anyone else like that, not since you were a kid. And that scared the hell out of you.’

Difficult, yes, and Ray obviously knew that. Knew exactly where to breach Fraser’s defences. It took an effort, but Fraser turned in his seat, too, so that they faced each other, sitting close across the table. ‘Yes,’ Fraser murmured. ‘I had to depend entirely on you. And you didn’t let me down.’

A long moment as they searched each other’s expressions, neither comfortable with the idea of needing the other so much. But Fraser had chosen the wrong words – because Ray soon withdrew from the deep and fragile vulnerability. ‘Except for that once,’ Ray said bitterly, sitting back in his chair, crossing his arms. ‘Except for once I let you down. When was that, exactly, Benny?’

‘Oh.’ Physical effort not to also withdraw. But if Fraser remained vulnerable, perhaps Ray would return to join him there. ‘I didn’t really mean that, Ray,’ he confessed. ‘I’m sorry. We had recently introduced this new element to our friendship, and – I was trying to regain a distance –’

‘You _lied_ to me? Benton Fraser lied?’ Ray’s tones were scandalised, though sarcastic rather than surprised.

‘Well, yes, I suppose I did. To protect myself. My feelings. This is as difficult for me as it is for you, Ray.’

‘Then why don’t you just let it go, Benny? We’re friends, we fuck, it’s good. Why try to force it into something it’s not?’

‘Because it _is_, Ray.’ Fraser closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I’m trying to acknowledge what it _is_.’

‘And that would be –?’

‘Love.’ He opened his eyes, met that startled dark-hazel gaze. ‘It’s love, Ray. That’s what I feel for you.’

‘Sure,’ the man said, trying to take this comfortably. ‘We’re friends, of course we feel that for each other.’

‘Then why can’t you say it?’

‘Because men don’t talk like that!’ the cop burst out. He stood, headed over to where the rest of his clothes were neatly arranged on the chair by the bed. Stood there for a moment in thoughtful silence, and then picked up his jacket, shrugged it on.

Fraser followed him, though keeping a careful two metres distant, needing to not let this go. ‘If you had this kind of a relationship with a woman. With Ms St Laurent, for example. Wouldn’t you call it love? Wouldn’t you offer her –’ But Fraser couldn’t find the words to ask whether Ray would give a woman his gentleness, the gentleness Fraser had to work for.

The cop kept his back to the Mountie. ‘That’s different.’

‘Why?’

‘We’re men. It’s not going to work like that.’

‘I have the same feelings, Ray. We both have the same feelings as anyone else, man or woman.’

‘You’re talking crap.’ Gathering up his socks and shoes, slipping his wallet into a trouser pocket.

‘No, I’m talking the truth. Women might be better at talking about it, but it’s still the truth.’

‘Leave it be, Fraser. Let’s just leave it as it is.’

‘I want more from you, Ray, and I want to give you more.’

‘You can’t have more. You keep pushing, maybe you won’t even have what we’ve got.’

Scary. Scary, the thought of losing this friendship. Scary, the all-too-masculine defensive / offensive response that rose within him. Too easy right now to give in to anger, to push Ray away with harsh words or harsh silence. And Ray was beginning to walk out. ‘I love you,’ Fraser said in desperation. ‘Let me show you how I feel. Then you’ll know it’s safe to feel that way, too.’

The cop shook his head. ‘No, Benny. Give it up.’

Drastic measures were called for. Fraser walked over to Ray, and took the man into his arms. Strange, for they’d never done this – they’d only ever undressed separately and met naked on Fraser’s narrow bed. Fraser took Ray into his arms, and the cop let him. The cop sighed, and wearily leaned in against his friend. Slid arms around Fraser’s waist. Silence eased them, standing there in a hug, the clothes and the long-johns perhaps providing a necessary though flimsy barrier.

‘Ray?’ Fraser whispered.

A quiet despairing moan. _What now?_

Fraser found the man’s chin with one hand, coaxed him into looking up. Hazel eyes darting to Fraser’s, then slipping away. Fraser kissed the man. A warm, non-threatening kiss. When he broke away, he said again, ‘I love you.’

No response.

‘Come back to the bed,’ Fraser said.

A nod. And then Ray murmured, ‘No more talk.’

Puzzling, really, for this man who loved to talk, to be so wary of true communication. This man, usually so transparently open, was heavily defended at least in this one area. Unwilling to promise something he had little intention of delivering, Fraser remained silent. Which Ray perhaps took as acquiescence.

Fraser led the man over to his bed, and they sat down close together. Seemed the easiest form of communication right now was a kiss, so Fraser did that. Ray was pliant in his arms, ceding control again – though his air was one of defeat rather than the usual welcome. With a sigh, Fraser broke the kiss. Instead he wound his arms around Ray’s waist, gathered him up close, and nuzzled Ray’s throat until the man dropped his head back in a more sensual surrender.

‘Who taught you,’ Fraser asked in a whisper against the jugular’s pulse, ‘who taught you so thoroughly,’ he continued, ‘that men can’t express their affection for each other?’

A groan, for Fraser’s provocative actions and for his challenging words. ‘Who _didn’t?’_ Ray responded after a time.

‘Your father?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Ray said, ‘he was a real sweetheart.’ The tone sarcastic, but not heated. This was an old hurt, perhaps one that Ray Vecchio had let go years before.

‘Ray,’ Fraser said, working around the base of the man’s throat now, ‘you’re the bravest and strongest man I’ve ever met.’

‘Don’t get out much, do you?’

‘Tell me why it’s so difficult to be brave about this.’

A sigh, and a return of the impatience. ‘No more talk, I said.’ Nevertheless, Ray’s arms tightened around Fraser’s back. ‘What was that lurid idea you had? Let’s get on with it, Benny. I could do with lurid right now.’

‘Oh.’ Fraser turned his head to press his face against Ray’s shoulder – which was gratifyingly broad for such a slim man. ‘Be patient with me, Ray. No doubt you’ve already deduced I have no prior experience in loving a man.’

‘Yeah, I figured that.’ Ray simply held him for a long moment, before reluctantly confessing, ‘I’ve had prior experience.’

‘Yes?’

‘And you deduced as much, right?’

Fraser shifted back to look at his friend. ‘I thought you might have.’

‘I’d never have had the nerve otherwise. You remember how it happened that first time?’ A speculative gleam in those hazel eyes. Perhaps this was leading to something of significance.

‘Well, you came up here with me late one night after a case,’ Fraser said. ‘And once we’d finished our coffee, you walked over to my bed, undressing on the way. And you said, _Come over here, Benny, and get your clothes off_.’

‘Master of seduction, aren’t I?’

Fraser smiled at this self-deprecation. ‘It had the desired effect, even if the delivery was unsubtle. We had a certain kind of sensual awareness of each other by then, though I hadn’t expected anything to eventuate.’

‘That’s what it’s been like for me, with men. I mean, it’s just been a matter of knowing what was wanted, and doing it. No lessons there in expressing affection, see? Very little affection, in any case.’

‘Ah.’ Fraser nodded. ‘And with women?’

‘That’s different.’

‘So you said.’

‘Benny –’ Ray grimaced in exasperation. ‘Let’s just do it now, all right? I don’t want to talk.’

Perhaps Fraser had pushed as far as he could for now. He wasn’t even quite sure anymore exactly what he had hoped to accomplish. At the very least, they had talked more that morning than they ever had about their friendship, let alone about their love. He nodded again, and leaned close to kiss Ray Vecchio’s richly beautiful mouth. So much to explore just in that simple act. Fraser suspected he could never tire of this changeable yet dependable man.

Ray was pulling Fraser off-balance, lying back on the bed and bringing Fraser with him. Careful not to hurt the man, Fraser followed, shifting over to lie beside him, maintaining the kiss’s enthusiasm as he did. It was always evident when Ray became thoroughly committed to this act – when the loving became something Ray Vecchio _was_, rather than something he was doing. In the moment he lost his reserve, Ray asked in urgent tones, ‘What? What did you want to do?’

Fraser moaned, his body’s memory throwing the potent image at him again – and wondering how on earth to say the words, for the only ones that occurred to him were either imprecise or crude. ‘Ray…’

‘Tell me.’

Instead Fraser pulled away, rose unsteadily from the bed, and quickly located a slip of paper he’d kept safe for almost two months. The very thought of it brought colour to his face – he returned to stand beside the bed where Ray waited, and handed it over.

Ray took one look at it and gaped. ‘Benny?’

‘You did the same for me, Ray,’ he said.

Perhaps they were both remembering that night, barely two weeks from when they first began loving each other. Ray had been in a sour edgy mood all afternoon, and it became evident why once they were alone in Fraser’s apartment – Ray had slapped a piece of paper down on the table between them, glaring at Fraser as if daring him to make anything of it. The paper had been a medical certificate dated that very day, containing a bald statement to the effect that Raymond Vecchio had tested negative for the human immunodeficiency virus, over an illegible signature. Neither Fraser nor Ray had commented at the time.

‘I visited a clinic the following day,’ Fraser explained. ‘But I lacked your courage. I didn’t share the results with you, and I should have.’

A grimace. ‘Hardly matters, given that it’s negative.’

‘If you’ve been worried ever since –’

‘I wasn’t worried.’

Frowning at this, Fraser said, ‘You should have been.’ Ray handed the certificate back to him, and Fraser put it safely away again. Perhaps he’d take the damned piece of paper to the Consulate the next day, and put it through the shredder.

Ray said, ‘Get back here.’ He sounded cold.

Fraser returned to the bed, and they lay there facing each other, both of them still dressed, and apparently neither sure how to proceed. ‘I’m sorry, Ray,’ Fraser whispered.

‘No, you’re not. You want to fuck me, right?’

‘Oh.’ Fraser was taken aback at the notion, but he supposed it was the logical assumption for Ray to make.

‘Yeah, well, if that’s what you want, you can do it.’ So begrudging.

Fraser let a wry smile tug at his mouth. ‘It’s an enchanting idea, Ray, but I was thinking of you taking the active role.’ Ray appeared doubtful – when Fraser had been expecting eagerness. Had Fraser been too unsophisticated in assuming that any man would want to seek that sensation, answer his hunger in that way with a partner? Surely any man, no matter how civilised, would still feel that urge to possess.

And it seemed Ray understood something of that latter impulse, for he muttered flatly, ‘You want me to use you? After you using me all this time, you want me to use you.’

‘Is that what I’ve been doing?’

Ray grimaced again. ‘Oh, what’s the difference? You’re still doing it. You got curious, right? And you want to know what it feels like. Sure.’

‘Well, I am curious, yes. But I also thought the act might be a suitable demonstration of faith. Of my faith in you.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’ Ray pulled away from their embrace, and sat up on the side of the bed. ‘You got something to use?’

Fraser blinked once, uncertain where any of this conversation was going. ‘Something?’ he echoed helplessly.

‘Lube.’ Ray glanced back at him, perhaps read Fraser’s confusion. ‘Lubricant, comes in handy tubes. Oh yeah, it’s boy scouts who are always prepared – you’re a Mountie. All right, how about baby oil?’ When Fraser shook his head in the negative, Ray tried, ‘Cooking oil?’

‘Yes. In the cupboard above the sink.’

Ray fetched the bottle and placed it on the floor by the bed. Shrugged his jacket off and draped it carelessly over the nearest chair. Then Ray rolled his shirt sleeves up, three turns each – all the while considering Fraser with a very thoughtful but remote expression.

The cop appeared sexier than ever to the Mountie, dressed only in his trousers and shirt. His elegant feet were bare on the wooden floorboards. Open shirt-buttons drew attention to his long pale throat and his dark chest-hair. And now his sleeves exposed his wrists and his slender forearms. Beautiful and provocative.

And full of purpose. ‘Get those ridiculous red things off,’ Ray said.

Fraser obediently sat up – and then second thoughts assailed him. ‘Ray…’

‘What?’

‘Given that I’ve never done this, I was hoping you’d approach the act with some care. I was trusting you would be –’ Fraser was disconcerted by Ray’s reaction. He tried, ‘Please, I was hoping –’

But unbelievably, incongruously, Ray was grinning. Barely holding back laughter. ‘Go on, Benny, say it. Lie back all faint, hand to your brow, and sigh it out – _Oh, Ray, be gentle with me_…’

That hurt. Fraser made the effort to stay where he was, to remain as open as he could bring himself to be. ‘Ray, I know you are actually a rather empathic person under all that bluster of yours –’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘So I would ask you to think of my feelings under the circumstances. I do not appreciate you mocking me.’

‘_Your_ feelings?’ Ray cried out in response, unnecessarily loud. ‘What about _my_ damned feelings?’

‘Ah, yes, what about your feelings, Ray? Despite every encouragement you have told me very little about them.’

A full wattage glare at being caught in a logical trap of his own devising. ‘Never mind,’ the cop declared with great finality. ‘Get those long-johns off.’

Fraser let out a tiny sigh, and lifted clumsy hands to the buttons at his chest. Moments later he was naked, and waiting for Ray to join him on the narrow bed.

Instead, Ray remained standing there, two long metres away. ‘Lie down. On your front.’ At Fraser’s startled reaction – and the Mountie had to assume that the cop could read his deep misgivings – Ray merely said, ‘_Now_, Fraser.’

Obedient again, Fraser did so, lying in the centre of the bed which had been haven until now.

‘Put your hands up to each corner of the mattress, and hang on. You hold on there, no matter what, OK?’ Ray waited until Fraser had complied before continuing, ‘Now shift down the bed until your feet are at each of the other corners.’ Of course the bed wasn’t long enough for Fraser to lie full-stretch, but it was still rather an odd strung-out kind of position to find himself in. ‘Don’t you move,’ Ray said. ‘No matter what I do, you don’t move, you stay right where you are.’

An excited little moan echoed through sudden silence. And after a long moment Fraser was startled to realise that the sound came from his own throat.

‘This is turning you on already?’ Ray sounded half amazed and the rest disgusted. ‘Ah, Benny,’ he said with some sorrow. A couple of steps – feet whispering on wood – and then one of those fine city-hands was reaching between Fraser’s thighs and slipping below him to discover the truth tucked up against his groin. The cop muttered something. Was it, _My heart isn’t this hard_, or –? But Fraser was in no frame of mind to hear or understand, for Ray was arranging him, careful though brusque, forcing Fraser’s genitals down to lie pressed against the sheets between his legs. A hand in the small of Fraser’s back, pressure indicating he shouldn’t lift up to let everything return to where it was comfortable.

And then Fraser was rewarded – Ray’s tongue rasped across the head of him, followed a slow teasing path upwards along the underside towards the base. Alternating between using the broad flat of his tongue, and niggling patterns with the tip of it. Working his way up to swathe Fraser’s scrotum with damp caresses. Fraser was moaning again, letting himself trust enough to give himself over to this pleasure.

The tongue worked its way further upwards, the trail leading along the ridge that supported the base of him, and back – back towards Ray’s goal. Soft-skinned hands spread against his buttocks, exposing him. Felt surprisingly good to have that moist flesh threatening to possess him. Fraser wondered if Ray had the patience to do this for all the rest of the day. Pleasure played havoc with Fraser’s time sense – pleasure that was complicated and heightened by the discomfort of his genitals still forced down against the sheets.

Minutes or hours later Ray withdrew, leaving Fraser bereft on the bed. Instinct was to reach for the man, not let him get away, but Ray whispered, ‘Don’t move.’

So Fraser didn’t even turn his head to see what Ray was doing, though it had something to do with the cooking oil. His curiosity was soon answered when soft oiled hands massaged his genitals, rolling and tugging gently, deliberately working the lubricant in. The massage shifted to the small of Fraser’s back, and the cop methodically gave Fraser enough physical reassurance for the Mountie to luxuriate in. And then at last a careful finger-pad rubbed at the entrance to him. Fraser moaned – and as if on cue Ray pushed into him, took an age to ease his fore-finger inside.

‘Does that hurt?’ Ray asked when he was done.

‘No,’ Fraser moaned. ‘Yes. No.’

A fraught laugh. ‘Which is it?’

‘I want you. I want _you_ inside me.’

The finger remained there, not moving. ‘Why?’

Fraser groaned, wanting to shift so that he could fully experience this invasion. ‘Faith,’ he said.

‘Your faith in me.’ Obviously Ray had been paying attention.

‘Yes. And us, my faith in us. I love you.’

A sound that was almost a growl, something of anger – and sensation jolted through Fraser as that finger twisted. Ray was keeping the strength of his reaction leashed, but only just. The cop said, ‘This is all so easy for you, isn’t it?’

A rhetorical question, or one for which Ray did not require an answer – for the finger began to slide in and out of Fraser, gliding thrusts that melted the very last of his instinctive resistance. ‘Ray…’ he moaned. ‘Please, Ray…’ Which didn’t mean anything, but was all the sense that Fraser was capable of right now.

When he finally got around to fully possessing Fraser, the cop didn’t bother undressing – he simply unfastened his trousers and let them slip down to his thighs. And he used both hands to lubricate himself – a sight Fraser couldn’t resist peeking at, though it meant disobediently turning his head to see back over his shoulder. Then it was silk shirt-tails tickling at his buttocks, and Ray pushing carefully inside him.

‘Oh!’ Fraser said at the sensation of being filled up rather more than was comfortable. His instinct was to crawl away.

But Ray muttered, ‘Don’t move.’ Voice betraying strain.

Difficult. Fraser tried to recapture his body’s memory of the complete relaxation Ray had given him through the massage, the strange gliding pleasure of his finger. Ray pushed and withdrew, pushed and withdrew until he’d achieved his aim. And the man lay himself down, blanketing Fraser with his slim body.

‘All right?’ Ray asked, harsh but perhaps unintentionally so.

‘Yes.’ It wasn’t quite a lie. ‘How does it feel for you?’

A shudder ran through the cop, echoed through the Mountie below him. ‘Hard,’ Ray said. ‘Gripping me. Hot.’

Fraser groaned, imagining how that must be.

‘God, Benny… Too much, it’s been too long.’

‘Fuck me,’ Fraser demanded.

Ray cried out in surprise, driven to the brink and beyond by the crudity or the mutuality of the uncompromising need. The cop lifted himself up onto unsteady arms, and began a ragged pattern of thrusts. Grumbling wordlessly to himself, distracted and distraught.

Fraser listened to him, wondering at the extremity this act had driven them both to. There was some pain, but it was mostly discomfort. In any case, Fraser found he wanted this, wanted it with all his heart and soul and flesh.

Only for moments was he required to survive the difficulty of Ray’s possession. The cop was soon devastated by completion, falling to lie heavy against Fraser, powerful waves pushing him into the Mountie with no regard for the pleasure of either man. And then it was over.

Aftermath. As was usual now, Fraser was glad to share it with his friend. ‘Ray,’ he whispered after a time. ‘Let me hold you.’

And the man slipped bonelessly to one side, would have fallen off the bed if Fraser hadn’t turned and caught him in his arms.

Fraser held the cop close, eased him with tender caresses. ‘I love you,’ he said a while later. ‘And I thought – Do you know that I thought –’

Long moments stretched. Ray roused himself to prompt, ‘What?’

‘I thought I wanted you to be gentle with me.’

A moan that sounded perilously close to a sob. ‘Don’t, Benny.’

‘Don’t what?’

The cop was curled into the Mountie’s embrace, face hidden against Fraser’s shoulder. ‘Don’t want to be hard-hearted,’ Ray mumbled. ‘Don’t make me be that. Not any more than you have to.’

‘But I don’t want that, either.’

‘Oh, you’re killing me,’ the cop moaned. Ray had his own arms wrapped around himself – Fraser gathered the slim body up even closer. ‘Have to be hard around you.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Fierce now, though it cost him. ‘Then never mind, Benny. Never mind.’ Huddled into Fraser as if sheltering from a storm.

‘I admit that was very exciting, Ray, but it wasn’t how I intended the act to be.’ Silence. Fraser sighed. Difficult to talk about something so precious and so fragile he might lose it in the very process of capturing it in words. But it seemed that if Fraser didn’t try, he and Ray had no real chance. ‘I hadn’t thought it would be hard or hard-hearted. Because when we really connect, Ray, when we are loving each other – you often become gentle. Beautifully open and gentle. I was hoping you’d be that way with me now in this. I thought the act might inspire you to be – well, yes, to be gentle with me.’

Unhappiness evident in everything that Ray was.

Fraser sat up, pulled the cop up with him, began unbuttoning Ray’s shirt. Belatedly noticed that tears threatened to fall from the man’s eyes.

‘Oh, it’s easy for you, isn’t it?’ Ray finally said, pushing Fraser’s hands away before they could expose him. ‘She’s gone, and you’re finally free to amuse yourself. Well, excuse me if I refuse to let you have me hook, line and sinker.’ And the man pulled away from the cold narrow bed, fastening his trousers before they could fall away from him.

Fraser could only be glad Ray didn’t simply walk out of the apartment, because the Mountie was so flummoxed he didn’t think he could have prevented the cop from leaving. ‘I don’t understand,’ Fraser finally said into the silence. He leaned forward to see Ray standing by the far window, hands deep in his trouser pockets, back firmly turned in Fraser’s direction. ‘Ray? I don’t understand what you mean. What’s easy for me?’

‘This,’ the man said with an impatient shrug. ‘Us.’

‘It has been good in many ways, Ray, but it hasn’t been easy. That’s why I’ve been trying to talk with you today.’

‘Talk? More like torture.’

‘I didn’t intend any of it to hurt you. What do you mean about me being free to amuse myself? _She’s gone_ – you’re referring to Victoria?’

An obstinate silence.

‘Please, Ray. Help me understand. I don’t have the experience that you do –’

‘Oh, you don’t need it,’ the man said with some bitterness. ‘You always understand a great deal more than you pretend, Benton Fraser – and I know very well it’s not the sort of experience you value anyway.’

‘Ray…’ Fraser lay back on the bed, at a loss. ‘I know what you’re implying,’ he said quietly to the ceiling. ‘But I am not feigning ignorance.’

‘You admit that you do?’ Ray actually sounded interested in this point. ‘You admit you’ve got this naive act you put on?’

Fraser grimaced and closed his eyes. ‘Yes. At times. If it seems wise. Yes.’

‘More lies, Benny. What for?’ Ray’s voice was closer – he must be drawing near.

‘If there is something that can be accomplished. A useful strategy. If I need to withdraw, as a gentleman. If I need to –’

‘Protect yourself?’

‘Well, yes.’ Fraser opened his eyes again, to find Ray hovering about three metres away, hands still in his pockets though the tension wasn’t so evident across his shoulders. Curiosity on his face. ‘Ray, it’s not as if you don’t have defences, though I acknowledge that you are a far more open person than I am.’

‘Oh, yeah, I have to have strong defences around you, Benny.’ Ray let out a sigh, and then – obviously giving in – came to sit on the bed. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hanging his head so Fraser couldn’t quite see his face. ‘Don’t you get it?’ Ray Vecchio asked quietly. ‘I could care about you more than any other person on the whole damned planet. I could, if I let it happen. But I thought I was safe. You’re a one-woman man. And we were never going to talk about love and stuff, because we’re both men, and because you’re so damned guarded anyway.’

Fraser stared at Ray for long moments. He asked, ‘More than any other person?’

‘Yes. All right? Yes. I care about you more than anyone else.’

‘More than your own self?’

A breath of ironic humour. ‘I knew it. You’re really going to put me through the wringer for this, aren’t you? Yes, I care more about you than I care about myself.’

‘More than… your mother?’

Very slowly, Ray turned his head to look back around his shoulder at Fraser. There was a horrified kind of astonishment on his face – and then, when he saw Fraser was serious, Ray dared to be amused. ‘You’re jealous of _Ma_? God, Benny, you can be such an idiot.’

Fraser waited for the answer.

‘All right, if that’s what you need to hear – and I have no idea why you do, you are so weird sometimes, but this is true anyway, OK? – I care about you more than I care for Ma. It’s a close thing, but there it is. Happy now?’

‘Yes, Ray.’ And Fraser reached a hand to rub reassuringly at Ray’s back. After a time eased by, Fraser said, ‘I thought your strength was in your openness, Ray, but I find that it is also in your defences.’

‘Well, you’re through them now, aren’t you? And that’s all of them, this is me, Benny. Be gentle with me, right?’

When Ray glanced back, Fraser said, ‘I’m not a one-woman man, Ray. If you mean that I only ever loved Victoria, and I will never love anyone else but her, then you’re wrong.’

‘Am I?’

‘I love _you_, Ray. Therefore you are wrong to draw that conclusion about my feelings. They aren’t as exclusive as you have assumed.’

The cop turned towards him a little, so they could see each other. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you the type to believe in One True Love, and that’s it?’

‘No. I don’t agree with Jack Huey that there are two million True Loves out there, either – but perhaps a number somewhere in between…?’ Fraser won a smile for that. ‘I know there’s a great deal of love in your heart, Ray, and you have not stinted in sharing it with other people. I admire you for that. But it doesn’t mean I don’t believe you when you tell me you care more about me than anyone else.’

Ray was still smiling, though there was a shade of bitterness about it. ‘A great deal of love that I’ve shared around, huh? That’s a fine way of telling me you know I’m a slut.’

Fraser rolled his eyes. ‘You can use that word if you like, but I will nevertheless persist in seeing you as a generous and loving man.’

Silence, as Ray stared down at him, the bitterness and the smile fading away. Finally he whispered, ‘_You’re_ the generous one. Don’t let me stop you thinking the best of me.’

‘I _do_ love you,’ Fraser repeated. ‘My heart is free of her, and I am able to pledge myself to you.’

A nod, though the man might take a while longer to really feel the truth of that.

‘You know me all too well, Ray Vecchio. No one else knows me as thoroughly as you do, but you have read me incorrectly in this regard.’ Fraser gave the man a smile. ‘You were so brave to begin this, so very brave. Even though you weren’t brave enough to then take it further.’

‘Or to let you take it further today.’

‘You made me work very hard, but your love is worth it.’

Ray grimaced. ‘I need consistency. I’m not always brave. I don’t always know who you are.’

‘No, you don’t need it.’ Fraser leaned up on an elbow, certain at last that he wouldn’t lose this man, his lover. ‘I have the ideal quote for you, Ray. You are so full of complexities and every kind of beauty. It is by Walt Whitman. _Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself (I am large, I contain multitudes)._’

‘Sure,’ the cop said, nodding with mock sagacity.

‘Actually, I do believe I need more contradictions, rather than you needing more consistency.’ Fraser’s hand returned to caress Ray’s waist through the silk shirt. ‘I want to spend my life learning your multitudes, Ray.’

‘Sure.’

‘When you’re ready, would you like to fuck me again? We could do it gently this time.’

The offer and the crudity caught Ray’s attention. He stared wide-hazel-eyed at the Mountie, who returned the look with mock innocence. ‘Sure,’ Ray repeated faintly. ‘Or maybe… maybe you should have me this time. Rough, gentle, any damned way you like. Fair’s fair.’

Fraser smiled at Ray Vecchio’s innate sense of justice. ‘Sure,’ he whispered. And Fraser drew the man down into his arms for a full-bodied embrace.

♦


End file.
